Emo(tional)
by malicent
Summary: The room was so cold. His skin, was like ice. His pale arms turned purple with the chilled winds. And the scars, turned more visible than before. Jayfeather knew he had a problem. But happiness comes from the strangest of places. But at what cost?


Emo(tional)

Chapter 1:Cold

_I loved you, you made me_

_Hate me_

_You gave me _

_Hate see, I cant flee_

_And these tears are deadly._

_You feel that, I rip that_

_Every time you tried to steal that_

_You feel sad? You feel bad?_

_Well sorry how I fucked that_

_It was my heart, my life_

_It was my start, but your knife_

_This night, it dies_

_This life and these lies_

_And these tears have sung_

_This song for too long_

_And it's true, it hurt you_

_Remember, I loved you._

"It's almost as if you don't care," Jayfeather sighed in exasperation. Flametail sighed and rolled his eyes. "Why should I care what color your dye your hair?" he snapped. "I already told you, it looks fine the way it is."

"Well, im sick of it," Jayfeather replied. He held up two different boxes and looked at his friend through narrowed eyes. "Now, pick. Blue or purple?"

"How about you just shave it off and tattoo 'I'm a homo' on your head?"

"Blue it is," Jayfeather said happily.

"Did you even hear me?" Flametail demanded.

"Yes," Jayfeather nodded. "But did I listen? No."

"I said, why don't you-"

"Sh!" Jayfeather hissed, ducking down behind the hair dye stand. Flametail ducked down too, with a confused expression on his face.

"What are we doing?" Flametail sighed, looking around warily.

"Hiding," Jayfeather whispered, peering out through the boxes. Flametail waited impatiently for Jayfeather to elaborate. He rolled his eyes when he didn't.

"Corrine is over there," Jayfeather finally explained. "I don't want her to see me."

"Ah," Flametail understood at once. Corrine was a really strange girl that was three years younger then them, and she was still in high school Flametail was twenty years old, a year younger than Jayfeather who was twenty one. They had met Corrine a few months back, when she had randomly complimented Jayfeathers hair on the street. They hadn't been able to get rid of her since.

"Why don't you just tell her to back off?" Flametail mumbled, getting tired of the constant issue of Corrine.

"I can't," Jayfeather snapped. "I'm too nice."

"You're not nice to me!" Flametail said in protest.

"Well that's because you're you," Jayfeather smiled. "We can get up now, she left."

"Jeez," Flametail grumbled, getting to his feet. Jayfeather suddenly felt as though someone was watching him, so he turned to his right. The girl managing the section was glaring at them.

"Hi," Jayfeather said.

"Hello," she said disapprovingly. "Can I help you with something?"

"No, we're good," Jayfeather said, holding up his box of blue dye. He ignored the irritated sigh from her and walked to the front of the store where the tills were.

"I'd like to purchase this," Jayfeather said, making an exaggerated show of placing his hair dye on the counter.

"Uh, okay," the girl running the till gave him a funny look and rang it through. "That'll be 11.34."

"Here you go," Jayfeather gave her a five dollar bill.

"I'm gonna need another 6.34," the girl snapped.

"Oh, I thought it was a twenty," Jayfeather laughed and handed her a ten. Flametail smiled slightly. Jayfeather was always so mixed up.

"Here you go," the girl handed him his bag and change.

"Thank you!" Jayfeather sang, and walked out of the store with Flametail.

"Alright, so where should we dye my hair?" Jayfeather asked. "We can't do it at my house. My fan broke again."

"I thought you got it fixed," Flametail replied.

"It broke again, I don't know how," Jayfeather rolled his eyes. "Every time I turn it on it groans and spits out dust."

"That's not good," Flametail mumbled. "We could go to my house I guess. Tigerhearts home though so we're gonna have to be appropriate with our words."

"I love Tigerheart," Jayfeather smiled, thinking of Flametails five year old brother. "He's so friendly."

"Only when you're around," Flametail scoffed. "When he's just with me he's a little demon."

"I think you're making shit up."

"I'm not!" Flametail cried. "Just yesterday, he stuffed a grilled cheese sandwich in my DVD player!"

Jayfeather burst out laughing, and Flametail grumbled something inaudible.

"Well let's just go to your house then," Jayfeather said after he had recovered from his laughing.

"Okay," Flametail said.

...

"It looks god awful," Jayfeather said as he looked in the mirror.

"It's not that bad," Flametail lied, staring at Jayfeathers neon blue hair. "It's just really ... bright."

"I look like a fucking glow stick," Jayfeather snapped. Flametail gave him a stern look and motioned with his head to where Tigerheart sat on the couch.

"It doesn't matter if he swears," Tigerheart called out without looking up from his comic book. "He can say fuck all he wants. It doesn't bother me."

"Tigerheart!" Flametail snapped. "Don't say that word."

"Why can Jayfeather do it and not me?" Tigerheart mumbled.

"Because you're too young," Flametail sighed. "And Jayfeathers a terrible role model to be copying."

"I like Jayfeather," Tigerheart said kindly. "I want him to put blue in my hair too."

"Really?" Jayfeather cut in. "It doesn't look very good."

"It looks like a popsicle," Tigerheart said. "I like popsicles."

"Well, not on your head," Jayfeather grumbled, turning to Flametail. "Do you have a hat I can borrow till this shit washes out?"

"Watch your goddamn mouth," Flametail snapped.

"Watch your goddamn mouth," Tigerheart piped in. Jayfeather turned to smile at the little boy, who was kicking his feet and grinning away without a care in the world.

...

Jayfeather lay in his bed, staring at the blank ceiling. He imagined swirls and colors flashing across it, to make it less boring. Turning to his right, his window showed a full moon.

Everything was dark.

A breeze chilled Jayfeather, and he forced himself not to shiver. The icy winds of winter were coming, and the night air was like ice.

Jayfeathers window was stretched wide open, frost glittering on the windowsill.

Jayfeather pulled up his thin bed sheet over his chest, but as his eyes drifted past his thin arms, he stopped. In the eerie light, his ghastly white shin was visible. He touched the top of his arms with his cold fingers, tracing like an ice cube down his skin. He involuntarily turned his arm over, to expose his wrists. He stared at the red for a long time.

The dark, scarred lines that traced from his elbow to the tip of his fingers.

The red was his relief.

But at what cost?

The wounds were healed. The blood was dry.

But like a broken glass that had been mended, it will never be the same. The broken shards will be held from glue.

And you will always see it.

Just like you can always see the scars.


End file.
